The Chat of the Opera
by AtsukoRyuu
Summary: Marinette is an aspiring young dancer at the Opera Populaire in 1870 Paris, France. Her life is suddenly thrown into disarray when two new owners take over the theater and the "ghost" who lives in the vaults of the theater decides to stir up trouble. Things become even more complicated when a mysterious love triangle begins. Not even a lucky charm could fix this mess.
1. Chapter 1 - Think of Me

**General Information:**

**Updates every 1-2 weeks on Thursday, Friday or Saturday**

**Chapter lengths will vary**

**All song lyrics are italicized**

**Takes place in 1870 Paris, France**

**The plot of the story will be VERY similar, if not identical, to the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie, but I promise that starting around Chapter 5 it will definitely change.**

**Thanks for reading, enjoy!**

**Chapter 1 - Think of Me**

A high shrilling voice cut through the stale air in the theater, swirling and swooping over the notes. Chloé Bourgeois, the head female singer of the opera, had been the leading lady for over five seasons now. The prestige girl did not have a good voice, but it wasn't bad either. The first time she had sung onstage, the audience had been mesmerized at her wide range. But after some time, Chloé realized that she enjoyed the attention and wanted to be the only one in the limelight. The only way she could continue her attentive streak was if she trained herself to sing as obnoxiously as she could. And everyone was irritated of the diva at this point. Two maids, cleaning up the seats in the audience, murmured to each other before sticking cloth in their ears to drown out the shabby solo.

Marinette sat behind the dark red curtains, trying to drown the voice out by concentrating on the costumes she was helping the stagehands fix. The young backup dancer knew that she wouldn't start out with a large part when she first joined the theater, but she couldn't help feeling slightly jealous of the blond haired prima donna. Especially when Chloé was an expert on making people envious.

Marinette peaked through a small hole in drapes, gazing at the back of the blond haired singer. Everything about her was contradictory to the black haired girl. Besides the fact that they both came from the same boarding school, she and Chloe couldn't be any different. Marinette had inky, short hair and pale white skin with dark bluebell eyes. Her hands were crusted with callouses from the extra backstage work she was given. The background dancer was the newest arrival to the theater, therefore the only jobs she ever got were the ones no one else wanted to do. But despite this fact, she was always kind hearted to everyone she met.

Chloé, on the other hand, was towheaded with clear icy eyes that shot daggers into all the workers at the opera house. Her snowy skin had a more elegant sight with soft, smooth, palms. She was also strangely tall for her age, giving her the best poise onstage. However, it was hard to find anyone who had a crueler personality. The diva especially hated Marinette, because although she would never admit it, she felt that she was her rival when it came to looks.

The song reached its climax as Marinette finished the last few stitches. The rest of the dancers politely clapped once the piano struck the final chord. None particularly cared, nor payed attention to the performance, but made sure to pretend to listen every once in awhile, in order not to get onto Chloe's bad side.

The next act was for the dancers, so Marinette put aside her sewing supplies and took her position next to her best friend and dance partner, Alya. Because it was rare for there to be any male dancers, most of the young ladies took turns playing the male roles. In this scene, Alya played one of the men. She placed her golden brown hand on Marinette's waist and wiggled her eyebrows, making both girls giggle as the curtain was raised. Alya's auburn hair was tied back under a hat, and she was dressed in a male's costume with a wrap on. Her dull brown eyes gave a glint of mischief as she spun her friend around.

Marinette sighed happily as the act finished and her tan ballet dress brush against her thighs when she took her final pose.

The director called for a break and the dancers dispersed. Alya waved to her before going to change into her next costume. Marinette went to the wings of the stage to stretch out her legs. The next dance she participated in contained a fouette, and she wanted to make sure it was perfect.

As she stretched, she watched the few male dancers they had talk and laugh the pass the time. Although romances within the theater was not forbidden, it was not highly recommended either. Almost all ended on bad terms and caused rifts during rehearsals, often ending in both being fired.

The men trailed over to where some of the female dancers had just trudged in, most likely to flirt. Marinette knew all of the guys by name, but she was too shy to go up and talk with them. Especially when all the other girls had their eye on at least one of them. Even Alya had succumbed to their charms and was now head over heels for the lead dancer, Nino. She giggled, thinking of all the timid glances he shot her best friend's way. Perhaps there could be a spark there after all.

Marinette had just finished stretching for the next scene when Chloé burst past her, golden skirts flying in all directions.

"How can you expect me to work in such conditions?" she screamed in outrage. "First, my comb is broken, and now Poodles is missing?" Poodles, Chloe's horrid dog that looked more like a scrappy rat, had vanished after yesterday's rehearsal. Marinette knew that one of the stagehands had been plotting before to hide the rat-dog away for a day just to give a scare to the leading lady, but she didn't feel inclined to tell Chloé any of this.

"Miss Bourgeois, please," the director begged. "Your father is coming today with his new business partner to take over the theater. You must be here when they come."

Chloé licked her pink lips in though. She had just opened her mouth to respond when Monsieur André Bourgeois walked over with Monsieur Gabriel Agreste. The two men were led by Monsieur Damocles, the previous owner of the opera house.

"As you can see, gentlemen, our cast is rehearsing for the performance tonight," Monsieur Damocles gestured to the stage.

A crowd had gathered to see their new bosses. Monsieur André smiled and waved at everyone, but Monsieur Gabriel stayed stiff with his hands clasped behind his back, coldly inspecting the stage. Marinette shuddered once his gaze had passed over her. Something seemed off about the man. His tall, thin stance gave the feeling that he was more powerful than anyone else in the room. His mouth was stretched down into a permanent frown, and his blue eyes were fiercer than Chloé's.

Monsieur André, per contra, had a warm grin and a chubby middle section. His shoes clicked softly on the wooden floor as he walked over and shook hands with the director. Then, he turned to his daughter.

"Chloé, my sweet, how is rehearsal today?"

Marinette didn't pay attention catch her response, because at that moment she noticed a movement in the rafters above the audience's seats. It was there for only a moment before it disappeared again, with a flash of black and green. The young dancer shook her head. She must be seeing things after a long rehearsal. Turning back to the crowd, she noticed that Madame Caline Bustier, her dance instructor, was also staring up where the figure had been. Her thoughts were interrupted as Monsieur Damocles began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could please have your attention. As you may have heard, there have been some rumors going around about my retirement. Well, I would like to confirm that those are true."

"Ah ha!" Chloé exclaimed, pointing her finger at Kim, the lead male singer. They had made a bet last week on the very subject at hand. Kim must have lost.

"It is my pleasure to now introduce you to the two new owners of the theater, if you have not already met them, Monsieur André and Monsieur Gabriel."

Splatters of applause spread through the auditorium. This wasn't much of a surprise, since everyone knew the business owners had been vexing to get the job for years now. Marinette frowned as the applause died down. If Chloé's father ran the theater, there probably wouldn't be a new female lead singer for a while.

"And, we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Viscount, Nathaniel Kurtzberg."

Marinette gasped as a tall redhead stepped onto the stage from the shadows. He walked forward to where Monsieur Damocles was standing and bowed in front of everyone. The dancers crept forward, peeking over each other's shoulders, trying to get a better look at the handsome young man.

"It's Nathaniel," Marinette whispered. Alya whipped her head toward her friend, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Before my parents died," she continued. "He lived with us for a short while, at my house in the bakery. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Marinette smiled shyly and looked down at her feet, a blush spreading across her freckled cheeks. "He was the first one to start calling me Mari."

"Marinette, he's so handsome!" Alya gushed. She grabbed Mari's hands and squeezed them gently.

"My parents and I are honored to support the all the arts. Especially the world renowned, Opera Populaire," Nathaniel gazed around at everyone as he spoke, his eyes sweeping past Marinette entirely, and lingering on Chloé. Her eyes fluttered when she noticed him gazing at her and swept forward in a grand gesture.

"Ah, Viscount, may I please introduce you to Madame Chloé Bourgeois, our leading soprano for five seasons." Chloé bowed gracefully and allowed Nathaniel to press a kiss against her knuckles while some of the maids, such as Sabrina, who absolutely adored the diva, clapped loudly at the exchange.

"Ah-hem!" Kim coughed loudly, drawing the Viscount's attention to him.

"And of course, Senor Lê Chiến Kim." There was some more polite applause. Nathaniel smiled at both of the singers before turning back to the director..

"I believe I am keeping you all from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your triumph. Thank you." With a nod of his head towards the cast, he was gone.

"Thank you Monsieur Viscount! Now, if you may please take it from the top again everyone!" Chloé giggled pompously. "He loves me, loves me, loves me…"

Marinette started at the ground as the busy man bustled past her and out of the theater. Alya tilted her head in confusion on seeing her melancholy expression. Mari twisted to the brunette and smiled sadly, the shine in her eyes fading. "He wouldn't recognize me."

"He didn't notice you!" Alya tried to reassure, but Marinette's mind was already made up and she drifted absentmindedly over to the line of dancers, preparing for the next song.

"Monsieurs," Madame Bustier beckoned for the two new owners to maneuver over to the side so they would not be trampled by the dancers. "We take particular pride in our ballet at the opera, sirs" the dance instructor explained, gesturing towards the beautiful young girls who had been practicing every day for months to perfect the specific number they were working on.

"I see why," Monsieur André responded. "Especially that little brunette angel," he waved his hand towards Alya, who had been working harder than almost anyone else.

"My best student, Alya Césaire." Madame Bustier nodded with a note of pleasure as she watched Alya perform a perfect pirouette.

"And that exceptional beauty! No relation, I suppose?" Monsieur André chuckled, noticing Gabriel's solemn expression as he watched not the young girls, but the rafters instead. Moving around down stage, both men returned their attention to Marinette.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Promising talent, Monsieurs. Very promising."

"Dupain-Cheng, did you say?" Monsieur Gabriel questioned, his eyes narrowing. "No relation to the famous French-Chinese musicians, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng?"

"Their only child, orphaned at seven, when she came to live and train here in the dormitories." Madame Bustiers' eyes softened when she looked upon her favorite student. She knew that it was wrong to think her higher than any of the other girls, but no one had as pure of a soul as Marinette had.

"An orphan, you say?" Monsieur Gabriel rubbed his jaw as his eyes darted between her and the grand chandelier above the audience's seats.

"I think of her as my own daughter." Madame Bustier stopped walking and stared sternly at the businessman, as if she already knew what he was thinking. "Also, gentlemen, if you could be as kind as to stand to one side."

The dancers swirled all over the stage as a ginormous elephant float was brought to the center for Kim and Chloé to climb onto. As everyone moved into lines, Chloé backed up slowly, to get closer to the float. Kim moved in the same direction, trying to stay clear of the skirts of all the opera singers. But there were too many people moving around him and he stepped on Chloé's gown, causing it to tear.

"Kim! You stepped on my dress! Why?" Kim smiled, half apologetically and half frightened before quickly scurrying away.

The diva continued on as Marinette and the rest of dancers leapt across the stage to cover up the new set pieces being brought onto stage. The new owners murmured encouragingly as they watched the magnificent performers wind up the finale.

Blurs of red and gold spread across the stage as every single actor and actress took their final places to sing the last chord. The performance was supposed to end with Kim and Chloé waving from the top of the elephant, but Kim was having trouble getting on the float and instead fell over, knocking some other performers over.

Chloé ended her last note with a furious expression on her face. Mari finished her routine with some high kicks and spun around a few times before concluding the show with her final pose. All in all, it had been a fairly acceptable performance. Although Chloé only wanted the best, and since this practice had not been the best… well…

"How dare you!" the lead female singer shrieked at no one in particular. "I can not believe I work in these conditions!" She began to fake cry as Alya looked across the room toward Marinette and scrunched her face up in a way that could only have been used to mock Chloé. The black haired dancer giggled and then glanced up at the ceiling. Another flash of black and green flashed across the rafters. Mari rubbed her eyes. What was wrong with her today?

Meanwhile, Sabrina went over to comfort Chloé, with no avail. "All the men do not care about me, they only want to see the dancing girls! Well, they can gawk as much as they want! Because I will not be singing!" Monsieur André, ignoring his daughter, turned to the director, not knowing how she was usually handled.

The director sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Grovel, go grovel."

The two men immediately ran over to Chloé, blocking her attempts to try to leave the theater.

"Principella. Bella diva," Monsieur André addressed his daughter.

"Yes, yes?"

"Goddess of song!" Monsieur Gabriel chimed in.

"Correct!" They had her full attention now, but they still needed something tempting for her to want to stay. And since Chloé's temper was extremely melodramatic, it could change it just a split second.

"Good sir," Chloé's father addressed the director. "Isn't there a rather marvelous aria for Madame Bourgeois to sing in Act Three of 'Hannibal?'" The director's eyes brightened as he started rustling through his sheet music. There was nothing more intriguing to a diva then the chance to show off.

"Yes, yes!" Chloé exclaimed, seeming to know where the conversation was heading. "Shall I sing it?"

The director smiled mischievously. "If my diva commands…"

Just like that, the lead singer's expression turned smug and she raised her finger in the air, as if to cue the orchestra herself.

"Yes! I do!"

As she prepared herself to begin, Monsieur André leaned of to Monsieur Gabriel.

"Why is Monsieur Damocles retiring again?" Monsieur Gabriel frowned, his nostrils flaring.

"I believe it had to do with his health…"

The piano started playing softly as Chloé stepped forward and began singing.

_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye._

Monsieur André visibly looked disturbed when he heard the atrocious vibrato in his daughter's voice, although Monsieur Gabriel tried to nod encouragingly. He wasn't very convincing.

_Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try._

The cast stood by, some watching silently, others whispering, but even if they did not show it on the outside, everyone was inwardly cringing. The audience was so focused of the singer that no one noticed the figure that went to the ropes on the overhead catwalk and untied the ropes, which controlled a large tapestry to rise and fall.

_When you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free-_

At that moment the tapestry was completely loose and fell from its hinges. Alya screamed as it knocked down Chloé and the rest of the cast scurried away.

"Madame!" The director shrieked, not knowing what to think of the diva pinned under the large post, sobbing for help. She pounded her palms on the ground, begging for someone to help her as the cast swarmed around the fallen tapestry, trying to lift it off of her.

Unknown to anyone, the figure whom was cloaked by the shadows, chuckled at what he had caused before strolling back into the dark.

"He's here!" Alya cried, turning to grasp hands with Marinette. "It's Chat Noir!" Madame Bustier, using all the chaos as a cover, overheard what Alya had said and walked over to stage left, looking upwards, as if to catch the criminal herself.

"Chloé! Are you alright?" Monsieur only conveyed the slightest hint of concern for his daughter before calling up to the men who were to keep track of the ropes. "Ivan! For God's sake man, what's going on up there?"

The set manager, Ivan, was in charge of the bridge. He looked over the rim of the platform, apologetically.

"Please, Monsieur, don't look at me!" he exclaimed, pulling up the ropes that were now dangling over the edge. "As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post. Please, Monsieur, there's no one there." Chloé's sobs were now being drowned out with the coos of pity from her cliqué, all wanting to make sure that she was alright and safe.

Madame Bustier, who had been searching the left wing, saw a letter drift from the rafters to the floor.

"Well, if there was someone there," Ivan continued with a smirk. "Then it must have been a ghost!" He chuckled hoarsely as everyone gasped down below, glancing around as if the so called "ghost" was still among them.

The dance instructor picked up the letter that was now lying at her feet. It was fixed with a red seal that resembled a cat's paw.

"Chloé, my dear, things do happen…" the director tried to reassure her but the diva was having none of it today. She clenched her fists tightly at her sides and turned to face director.

"For the past three years these things 'do' happen! And did you stop them from happening? No!" Next she turned towards the two Monsieurs, ignoring the fact that one was of her own flesh and blood. "And you two! You are as bad as him!" Giving a large sigh, she rolled her eyes, as if not believing what had actually happened.

"These things do happen, augh!" Chloé taunted, pivoting on her heel and walking away. "Until you stop them from happening, this thing," she spit out, pointing towards herself, "is not happening! Sabrina! Kim! Bring me my dog and my boxes!" The crowd of people split, watching in silence as the diva bickered her way out with the dog that had- finally- been found. Kim walked slowly past the two new owners and sneered, stroking his fake beard.

"Amateurs!" he exclaimed before following the female lead singer.

Chloé could still be heard muttering to the various stagehands as she swept out of the theater. "Now you'll all see! Bye bye! I'm leaving!"

Marinette looked to Alya, who didn't seem surprised at all by the events that had happened. Everyone knew that Chloé would leave someday. But everyone knew that eventually, she would also come back.

"She… will be back?" Monsieur Gabriel questioned the director, who was leaning against the wall in misery. He turned around and shrugged suggestively as to say "who knows?"

"You think so, Monsieur?" Madame Bustier chuckled as the opera owners turned to face her. She clutched her staff in her right hand but held up the letter she had found in her left. "I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost-"

"Oh, God, in heaven, you're all obsessed!" Monsieur Gabriel exclaimed, shaking his head as he turned to face the people in the room. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Madame Bustier stared at him with a displeased expression.

"He welcomes you to his Opera house-"

"_His_ Opera house?" Monsieur André huffed, mocking the Madame. She continued on as if she hadn't been interrupted at all.

"And commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use." She used her cane to point to the seating area hanging above their heads. "And reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?" The dance instructor handed Monsieur André the paper so that he could see it with his own two eyes, who then, in turn, handed the note to Monsieur Gabriel.

Madame Bustier raised her eyebrows and stroked her long, red braid so that it laid on her chest. "What? Monsieur Damocles used to give him twenty thousand francs a month."

"Twenty thousand francs!" The two men were in shock. How could they give this astonishing amount of money to someone they didn't even knew existed.

The dance instructor was clearly amused at their reactions. Putting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head slightly to the side. "Perhaps you can afford more? With the viscount as your patron?"

"Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the viscount was to join us at the gala." Monsieur Gabriel ripped the letter apart in his hands, looking completely flabbergasted. "But obviously, we shall now have to cancel, as it appears, we have lost our star!" He now had the attention of the entire room once more. The director looked appalled. The Opera Populaire had not canceled a single performance since it has first opened. No one was expecting it to happen anytime soon, either.

"Uh-uh, um, surely there must be an, uh, an understudy!" Monsieur André looked desperately to the director.

"An understudy? There is no 'understudy' for Chloé Bourgeois!"

Monsieur Gabriel turned to his business partner, fuming. "A full house, André! We shall have to refund a full house!"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng could sing it, sir." Madame Bustier suddenly cut in. Most of the cast had already left the stage, but from the ones who had stayed, they all looked at Marinette expectantly. The shy-spoken girl, who had been talking with Alya, turned around slowly, dumbfounded to hear her name mentioned. She was clumsy and timid, the exact opposite from what they wanted in a lead role!

"But a chorus girl? Don't be silly." Monsieur André waved her off immediately. At this point, all of the crowd had cleared, knowing that there was not a single chance for this musical to be saved. But the dance instructor held firm to her idea.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher." Intriguing the owners once more, they turned to examine the bashful dancer. Alya, the only other dancer who had stayed behind, turned to Marinette, surprise glinting in her eyes. This was the first time she had heard of her best friend taking lessons with a so-called "great" teacher.

"Who?" Monsieur André stated, plainly.

Marinette smiled a bit, clearly uncomfortable under their gazes. "I-I don't know his name, Monsieur," she replied softly. There was silence except for the click of Madame Bustiers' heels clicking on the floor. She wrapped her long, slender arm around Marinette's shoulders.

"Let her sing for you, Monsieur. She has been well taught." The dance instructor stared the two men down as if they would dare disagree. The business men looked at each other once before becoming for her to come stand in the center of the stage. Marinette crept forward, aware that this moment could destroy her entire career.

The first few notes of the song Chloé had been singing started as Monsieur Gabriel, who clearly disapproved of the idea, whispered to his friend.

"André, this is doing nothing for my nerves."

"Well, she's very pretty," Monsieur André replied. Both men became silent though when Marinette opened her mouth and the notes began to pour out.

_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye_

_Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try_

The men stood, speechless, as they listened to Marinette's beautiful voice. The cast members filed back in, mouths wide open, all wanting to know who's alluring voice they were listening to.

_When you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me_

Suddenly, it was night, and Marinette was performing in front of a full house in a beautiful white ball gown. Silver jewels in the shape of stars were entwined into her black hair. But not a single jewel in the whole of Paris looked brighter that night then Marinette Dupain-Cheng did.

_We never said, our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea_

_But if you can still remember, stop and think of me_

Ivan, along with the other crew that was working on the catwalk that night, beckoned for others to come and watch the young girl sing. Everyone was absolutely memorized by her voice.

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way things might have been_

Alya watched her friend from the wings of the stage, slightly jealous, but mostly full of pride. Madame Bustier also looked on with a warm expression. She placed a hand on Alya's shoulder as if to say, that could be you too someday. After watching for some time, the dance instructor turned and left the wings. She had other things that needed to be taken care of.

_Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned_

_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind_

A young man with fiery red hair sat in box five, his eyes unmoving from the performance. He looked perplexed at the slim figure on stage. He knew her, didn't he?

In the next box over, Monsieur André and Gabriel watched the performance. Monsieur André wore a pleased expression, with his hands folded calmly over his large stomach. Monsieur Gabriel, on the other hand, looked perpetually disturbed. The only calming fact for him was that the girl was good enough to roll in a lot of money. But it was her…

_Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do_

Marinette's voice projected to every corner of the Opera Populaire. Even down into the dark depths of the lowest levels, where a figure clad in leather looked up in surprise when he heard the voice.

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you_

The audience applauded as an interval of music played in between the verses. Many of the audience members murmured about how wonderful the new lead was. Such a nice change after Chloé Bourgeois. It suddenly clicked in the red haired man's head of why the singer looked so familiar.

"Can it be? Can it be Marinette?" Nathaniel stood up, astounded by his sudden realization. "Bravo!" He clapped loudly before standing up and leaving his box. Unknownst to him, though, Madame Bustier watched him leave from behind the boxes' curtains.

"_Long ago, it seemed so long ago, how young and innocent we were! She may not remember me but I remember her_." Nathaniel was grinning ear to ear as he headed towards the stage doors. He couldn't wait to see his old friend, and get to know her better now that they were both grown up.

_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we_

_But, please, promise me that sometimes, you will think… _

Marinette paused, taking in a large breath before singing a cadenza and finishing the performance.

_Of me!_

Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the vibration of the last note ringing throughout the opera house.

When she looked out into the crowd again, everyone was on their feet, applauding for her.


	2. Chapter 2 - Angel of Music

_**NOTICE: THERE WILL NOT BE ANY MORE UPDATES UNTIL AFTER MAY DUE TO MY BUSY SCHEDULE. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING, I WILL RETURN SOON.**_

**Chapter 2 - Angel of Music**

The crowds backstage were almost impossible to maneuver through. Alya squeezed through the performers and audience members, making her way back to the dancer's dressing room. She needed to change before someone ended up tearing or spilling wine on her dress.

As she made her way to the large oak door, she noticed Nino, laughing with a few other male dancers. He glanced up at her as soon as she laid eyes on him. He smirked before beckoning to her. Alya wanted nothing more than to go over and spend time with him. They both had been interested in each other for half of a year now, but Alya was too focused on her career to let a relationship get in the way. Smiling sadly, she shook her head once and dived into the dressing room, not catching his dejected expression.

The dressing room was mostly empty, except for a few of the younger girls gossiping in the corner by the mirrors. All of their heads turned to Alya when they heard her close the door. She ignored their burning stares and went over to her stool. Lots of the dancers were jealous of Alya's ability to exceed expectations in every opera, often earning much more scorn than needed. It didn't bother her as much as it used to, but it still was something she had to deal with on a daily basis.

Alya's mother had been working as the ballet teacher for as long as Alya could remember. _Madame Caline Bustier_. She enjoyed the way others spoke her mother's name. _Mme Alya Césaire Bustier_. Although she wasn't her real birth mother, Madame Bustier allowed Alya to take her surname, as long as she kept her real parents surname as her middle name. Madame Bustier and Alya had many of the same traits, even if they weren't blood related. Madame Bustier was quite refined when it came to dancing, manners, and finding the students who ditched her class. Alya succeeded in dancing, being polite around those of importance, and finding her best friend whenever she decided to disappear for a while.

After changing into the regular white practice dress and combing her auburn hair down as straight as possible, Alya snuck out into the back area of the opera house, looking for Marinette. Once she had looked in all of the regular places- the practice room, the stretching area, and the rooftop patio- she went to the only place left that her friend could possibly be. The chapel.

Marinette was praying to her parents. It was a tradition of hers that she did after every opera finished, whether it went well or fell apart. The latter had never happened, but she didn't want to jinx her and the rest of the performers by thinking toopositive.

Two picture frames sat next to each other. Each had the names of her parents carved in tarnished gold at the top. These were the only things of her parents that Marinette had. No one exactly knew why they had passed away, but when their time had come, it was too early. Marinette was only six, much too young to fight to keep any of her parents belongings. She faintly remembered clutching the picture frames under a thick, wool blanket that someone had wrapped around her the night the auctioneers came to her house. No one noticed what she had kept to herself. But everything else was sold.

Many days had passed with Marinette being watched by her neighbors until Madame Bustier came to take her to live at the opera house. She had no other living relatives. She was an orphan. Living and working at the opera house was her only choice. Now, twelve years later, Marinette believed that it was the best thing that could of ever happened to her. She had a steady, however small, income, a best friend, and a place to sleep at night with warm meals. There wasn't anything else she could ask for. Marinette tried to forget about her old life. Her parents, her friends, Nathaniel…

The days that it became too hard to bare were rough, and often ended with her crying herself to sleep at night. There always felt like something was missing. Until one day. The day when her Angel came to her.

Marinette quietly lit one of the candles in front of the altar. An eerie sort of silence filled the entire chapel. It was almost loud enough to make one go deaf. She hugged her knees to her chest, just to hear her skirts rustle around her. Even if it only made sound for a moment, the noise was comforting. With her head bowed down in prayer, Marinette thought of what she would say to her parents if they had been able to see her perform tonight.

"_Brava, brava, bravisima…_"

Marinette brought her head up slowly as she heard the words whispered into the air. They were so faint that she would not of heard them if they were spoken anywhere else except the chapel.

"Marinette! Marinette!"

She barely registered Alya's voice calling out to her.

"_Marinette_," the walls whispered.

"_Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect._" Marinette turned around in shock to see Alya bound in but recovered quickly and gave her a bright smile. Her friend gracefully walked over and slowly crouched down to sit down next to Marinette.

"_I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?_" Alya tilted her head slightly to the side, as she always did when she was curious about something. Marinette's eyes glazed over as she thought how to explain what was happening to this peculiar girl.

"Alya, when your mother brought me here to live, whenever I'd come down here alone… My parents… A voice from above… And in my dreams… They were always there. You see, when my parents lay dying, they promised me that I would be protected by an Angel… an Angel of Music."

Alya's brows furrowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Marinette, do you believe… do you think the spirit of your parents combined and now they are coaching you?" Marinette leaned in closer, her wide eyes brightening and a grin appeared on her face.

"Who else, Alya? Who?" Alya looked away from her friends face and down to the pictures of Tom Dupain and Sabine Chang. It seemed impossible to the logical side of her, but the emotional part wanted it to be true for Marinette's sake. She glanced back at her face and opened her mouth to say something else, but Marinette quickly cut her off.

"_Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here_!" The young singer slowly rose from the ground, gazing at the tiled walls on the chapel longingly. "_Here in this room he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me. He, the unseen genius._"

Alya stumbled after Marinette as she started walking out of the chapel and back into the twisting hallways that would lead back to the theater. Before she left, however, she glanced back at the only stained glass window in the room. It was the only source of light, except for the candle still burning it's incense at the altar. Alya shivered as she noticed the picture on the stained glass window was an Angel. The light shining through it seemed to dim the longer she stared.

"_Marinette, you must have been dreaming, stories like this can't come true._" Alya had to yank on her friends arm to get her to keep walking and pay attention to what she was saying. This wasn't like Mari. Sure, her head could be in the clouds every once in a while, but there was never a time when she was so… out of it. "_Marinette! You're talking in riddles, and it's not like you!_" She dragged her back into the wings of the stage as Marinette continued to look around in amazement like she had never seen he opera before. Her thoughts were everywhere.

"_Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory."_

Alya stared at her friend, unable to understand what her friend was going through. "_Who is this Angel?_"

_This Angel of Music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel_.

Marinette suddenly stopped and stared at the bridge overhead when she saw something flash across. It happened so fast that only the sharpest eyes would have picked it up.

"_He's with me even now…_" Alya grasped Marinette's hand and gasped.

"_Your hands are cold!_" The singer felt the blood drain from her already pale complexion.

"_All around me…_"

"_Your face, Marinette! It's white!_" Mari grasped Alya's arms and looked her straight in the eye.

"_It frightens me…_"

Alya laughed nervously before responding.

"_Don't be frightened._" Marinette seemed unconvinced. The dancer rolled her eyes and swung her arm over her shoulder. "Oh c'mon, Mari. You're just stressed after your big night! We should really be celebrating!" Marinette smiled and blushed slightly as she remembered the thrill of standing by herself on the ginormous, wooden stage.

Alya gave a crooked grin, knowing that she had finally gotten her friend's attention. "Let's get you out of this heavy ball gown and spend some quality time together hiding in the practice room like we usually do after these shows."

Mari finally broke into an all-out grin. "You know just how to make me feel better!" she exclaimed as the two young ladies pranced away.

Ivan chuckled to himself and took another swing of his beer. The cleaning for the show was over, but he decided to check on things at the bridge once more, despite how tipsy he was. He didn't need another event like early that morning with the tapestry again. After making sure all the ropes were still tightly tied, he climbed down the ladder and went back to the after celebration, completely missing the set of green eyes that were watching him from above.


End file.
